Don't be a stranger
by aavikkohiekka
Summary: Destiel AU based on Remember Me - "Screw his brains out and make him call you daddy. Put him in clown's shoes. Turn the little cop's brother into a flaming homosexual. I don't know... Be creative."
1. Prologue

**SO. HERE. Destiel AU fic based on Remember Me.**

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><p>Cas was eleven at the time. Street station was silent at that time of the evening, beginning night. Air had gone chill and Castiel, only in hoodie, pressed against his older brother's side. Balthazar looked down at him, gentle, slightly foxy side curving on his lips. Castiel couldn't help but smile back tiredly.<p>

It had been a very long day, first Cas at school while Balthazar had been working. Castiel had had to spend some of his time in the library when Balthazar had been forced to work overtime. But as the library had closed, Castiel's brother had been there immediately to pick him up, no matter what his boss said. Cas was what was important and they'd go with his schedule, not some old bastards who rather sat in his office than worked in the shop like he was supposed to, leaving most of the work to Balthazar.

Castiel looked up at his older brother. Balthazar looked good as always, blonde hair messy in somehow neat way. His black coat hung open and exposed the white v-necked t-shirt underneath. Balthazar shoved his free hand on the pocket of his jeans while other one had been laced together with Castiel.

Castiel shifted slightly, blinking his eyes wide to keep them open. He'd probably crash the exact moment that they'd get back home. He glanced around in the station, trying to peek further on the rails, trying to hear if the train was coming. Not yet.

Night air, despite being chily, was more fresh than what it seemed to be in the day. Probably it was just the change in temperatures. Slight chill made Castiel pluck the worn out sleeves of his grey hoodie over his fingers. His other hand was being warmed up by Balthazar's. He didn't mind.

The complete silence of the night was being broken by sounds coming from the stairwell. Balthazar tilted his head, looking towards the stairs just in time to see two teenagers turn and stand back against them. Balthazar could see they were muttering to each other. The way the other one kept glancing over his shoulder made older Milton brother feel very uneasy.

Two boys turned and approached. Castiel's attention returned to Balthazar from the railway as he felt his brother's hold on his hand tighten. Castiel didn't say anything, just let his eyes lower from his brother's clearly concerned eyes past him to the boys approaching. Castiel couldn't help the way his fingers curled tighter around the sling of his heavy backpack.

Boys came too close and Castiel could feel Balthazar pulling him against himself, his icy blue eyes drilled to boys as a warning. Boys, clearly immigrants, turn quickly and head to the stairs. Castiel heard his brother sighing and younger brother furrowed his brows, looking up at his brother. Balthazar returned the look, relaxing by his brother's side before mumbling the words of reassuring.

_It's alright. We'll be home soon. I'll make you a toast and we can watch cartoons before you go to bed. _

Castiel knew that Balthazar would have handful of tasks to do when he'd be going to bed. It made him feel slightly guilty. He'd should be helping his brother instead of letting him make supper, wash dishes and put Cas in bed alone. Lucifer was working nightshift again so they'd be home alone. Tonight, Balthazar wouldn't once again be able to go and spend some time with his friends or just take some time for himself.

As Balthazar heard the sound of the train in the distance, he tilted his head up to look, attention being drawn away from the surroundings. The train rounded the final bend to the station and Balthazar shifted little, Castiel still firmly by his side.

The deafening sound of the train filled the small space and echoed from the walls of the station area and the gust made Castiel clutch on the back of Balthazar's dark coat.

Balthazar took a step further, and Castiel was first one to notice there was something wrong with the picture.

The guys who had just moments earlier disappeared in the stairwell had came back with two-man relief. There were four of them, and only two of them, other one being only a child. But in Balthazar's eyes their assaulters looked like children as well. Barely seventeen eighteen, he evaluated quickly.

Balthazar didn't feel thretened much before the boy standing in front of them lifted his too big hoodie slightly, revealing the small caliber gun tucked under the waistline of his jeans. Balthazar could feel his heart jumping on his throat and his movements next few seconds were rapid. It didn't even cross his mind at the point that his quick movements would probably easily freak out some of the attackers and make them do something they'd regret... Or wouldn't. Older Milton yanked on Cas' hand and pulled him against himself, covering him with his arms as much as possible.

Castiel didn't feel safe even in his brother's embrace. He stared at the assaulter over Balthazar's arm, his sky blue eyes widened with fright. His hands rose up and they clutched tightly on the shift underneath Balthazar's coat. Balthazar can feel Castiel's heartbeat against his stomach as they pressed tightly against each other. God, his younger brother was barely even breathing at that point!

"Alright, let's stay calm, alright?" Balthazar said, his ever so calm voice actually wavering. It was possibly because of the fact that Castiel was with him and being endangered. "I'll give you my stuff and we'll all walk away from this, okay?" With that he unwind his other hand from around Castiel to dig his mobile from one and wallet from other pocket.

Assaulter by their right reached out his hand, jerking it as a sign for Balthazar to give them to him. Seeing that his victim hesitated for a moment he barked out orders to hand out the stuff right now, or he's 'shoot the kid's brains in the pavement'.

This made Balthazar quickly shove his belongings on boy's hand. Castiel made a whine and one of the assailants fixed his eyes on him. Castiel made a sound as the oldest of the boy's reached out and grasped on his backpack, yanking. He clutched on Balthazar tighter, but as his brother muttered 'let it go', he did as he was told and let the pack be torn from him as one of the boys went through Balthazar's wallet. Soon, emptied from money, credit cards and coins it got abandoned in the pavement.

Still holding his breath Castiel crushed himself back against Balthazar. His brother made a soothing, small noise, his hand pressing on the back of Cas' head. A silver cross dangling on the thin chain showed from past the collar of Balthazar's shirt. It was the one their father had given him ages and ages ago. One of the assailants made a swinging more, trying to grasp on it.

A sudden chatter coming from the stairwell stopped him from trying another time. Balthazar's head snapped towards the stairwell.

_Please, please, please, _he begged inside of his head and clutched on Castiel tighter, feeling the hammering of his brother's heart and how he suddenly started gasping for air as he had been holding his breath for too long.

Train had finally stopped and the doors slid open. Too slow, in Balthazar's opinion. Actually he was in state where every single move looked and felt like in slow motion. For Milton brothers' luck the boys decided to flee the scene. In quick movement they sprinted to the train like flock of startled birds. For a moment... Balthazar felt nearly sorry for the kids.

In a such young age and so ruined already. He frowned slightly and eased his hold on Castiel as the train doors started to close. Lifting his eyes back on the boys on the train, his expression turns from frown into a contempted, irritated grimace. Oldest one of them held up Cas' backpack, squeezing on the slings. Feeling of being sorry disappeared and it was just pure loathing.

Balthazar could feel boy's eyes drilling into him, one pair after another. It was so close to be over. He had time to draw in a breath and ease his hold from Castiel slightly.

But of course it was too easy.

One of the boys reached out, hand stopping the doors from closing. Balthazar turned his head in time to see gun being extended out from the subway car. His lips parted and he opened his eyes, warning Castiel to duck down - - only if he had had time.

Castiel stood frozen as loud, sharp noise of gun going off and the muzzled flash depriving two of his senses for a moment. His ears were ringing, his eyes seeing only white. The mist of warm blood splattered on his face, across his clothes and his vision returned just in time for him to see Balthazar stumbling off from his feet and collapsing on the ground like a ragdoll, his arms slipping off from Castiel's shoulders.

Castiel couldn't move.

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><p>Officer Lucifer Milton nearly ran up the stairwell to the station as if it was a dream. Blue and red lights were dancing against the concrete walls as he walked, giving the space suddenly almost an eerie atmosphere. Calming himself down at the end of the steps, he drew in a breath. Blue eyes scanned the scene. Ten, fifteen feet from the stairs, three from the rails. Thick splatters of blood were scattered around in the pavement and smallers sprays here and there. He could feel himself getting sick. It rarely happened to him anymore, but as he walked closer to the scene, more and more his knees wanted to buckle.<p>

He knelt before the white sheet, watching the figure through it for a while. Pale hands and part of the dark cuff were shown. And those same damn black, neat shoes. A red, dark spot had adhered somewhere around figure's forehead. Lucifer clenched his jaws before reached out his long fingers and grasped on the edge of the sheet, peeling it back.

Police officer lifted his hand slightly, fingers curling into a fist before he pressed it against his mouth, color clearly being drained away from his cheeks. Returning the sheet on Balthazar's blood soaked face with a torn bullet hole on his forehead, little to the left, he turned.

With a few steps he reached the wallet spread out in the pavement and being outlined with chalk. It had been tagged and numbered as an evidence. Without a word, a permission Lucifer picked it right out of the outlines. He flicked it open on his palm, a small picture being tucked under the plastic, in the space reserved for driver's license.

Lucifer observed it quietly for a while, regocnizing the outlines of their parent's faces, Cas held up by Balthazar, a wide grin on both of their faces. Lucifer stood by their father, smiling as well, his arms crossed over his chest.

Man could feel his stomach lurching, and as much as he would have wanted just to give in on his sickening feeling he forced himself to get up and as if it was a treasure he tucked Balthazar's wallet in his pocket.

Turning he finally fixed his eyes on his youngest brother. Now only one. Castiel stood in the dim light, his eyes blank. The round police had crouched next to him and tried gently to wipe blood from Castiel's face on the towel. Even in the distance Lucifer could see how Castiel was grasping on the blanket around him and how he was shaking. He was now a poor, poor child whose older brother had been torn from him right in front of his face.

Castiel's eyes moved slowly in Lucifer's and locked tightly. Boy wriggled from the round police's hold and took stumbling steps towards Lucifer. He was clearly panting and the small steps seemed like they were taking a lot of effort. Cas' legs stopped working suddenly and he reeled.

Lucifer moved quick, saving him from falling down. His arms, covered in deep blue fabric of his police uniform, reached out and enveloped Castiel against himself.

Blanket fell down from Castiel's shoulders as Lucifer lifted him on his arms easily, holding him for comfort. Cas' hands reached out, arms hooked around his older brother's neck as the tiny, gasping noises left his lips. Castiel tried to form words, but even breathing properly was a difficult for him.

Lucifer really didn't note how he had turned from the scene and started walking. His steps felt weighless. Castiel was all he had left anymore and it made his heart ache.

Reaching the end of the stairwell, his other knee buckled and he simply couldn't keep up. His hands clutched on Castiel, who let out a small gasping noise of surprise. He clearly was too tired, too exhausted to react any other way.

The officer close by put his hand on the shoulder that Castiel wasn't leaning on and left it there. Lucifer grunted and gathered himself, leveling his composure. Drawing a deep breath he got up and shook his co-worker's hand from his shoulder before he in quick steps moved down the stairs, ignoring the smell of the urine that had been burnt in the walls of the stairwell.


	2. 8 years later

The small apartment smelt of coffee and cigarettes. The silence of the morning was cut only by the sound of the traffic coming from outside and the high-pitched ringing of the phone. Dean Winchester sat by the bed, leaning on the hard wooden edge of it, ignoring the phone for now. He shifted slightly, yanking the blanket better around himself. He lazily ruffled the pages of old thick book. He ran his other hand briefly through his sleep mussed hair and focusing better on the tiny text on yellow pages.

On his other knee rested notebook where he scribbled most important things up. He looked slightly pale, but maybe it was just because he hadn't done nothing put eaten pie, smoked and drinked at least potful of coffee since he had woken up a few hours ago. He murmured quietly as he wrote, leaning his head on his free hand, eyes travelling on the lines.

A man, taller than Dean, was laying on the bed on his stomach, other blanket covering some of his back and his rear. He hung his other hand over the edge of the bed, a small change in breathing signaling that he was waking up already. Dean's eyes never left the book.

He straightened up little and searched for the last piece of the pie with his hand. Ashtray, coffee mug, plate. He grasped the cold piece and took a big chunk out of it, mouth full as man on the bed grunted and shifted little to reach for the phone which was on the floor, much closer to Dean than what it was to this fling.

Man, still little out of it shifted little, turning his head to look at Dean. "Hey... Phone", he muttered, giving Dean a weak nudge on the shoulder. Dean said nothing back but put the pen down and did the same with the phone than what he had done with the pie and groped around the floor to find the phone.

He glanced at the clock, ending up cursing before he lifted the phone on his ear.

"Yeah?" He shrugged the blanket off from his shoulders and got up, pinning the phone between his ear and his shoulder. "'course. I'm on my way", he continued on the phone, grasping black, wrinkled suit pants from his dresser and clumsily, nearly tripping over pulled them over his briefs. He glanced at the man on the bed, then back on the clock.

"I know. Calm down, I know, I know", he assured the one on the other side of the line before cut the call and tossed the phone on the bed. He grasped white t-shirt from the dresser and yanked it over his tattooed chest.

He continued, searching for a button-up, finding one which turned out to be reaonably clean. He buttoned it up. He found the suit jacket. For his misfortune he found it to be stained.

Moving to sink of the kitchen he scrubbed the mysterious stain, probably sauce or something, from the shoulder, wondering how it had ever ended up there with the heel of his palm.

As he got it somehow dried, he yanked it on and rushed out of the door, leaving the brunette man in the bedroom, for his roommate to deal with.

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><p>Sun was already high and dazzling his eyes when got out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Tucking his keys on his pocket he walked past the rows of tombstones on the small path created between them. Lots of the flowers had died, apparently land keeper had turned to lazy one and relatives had stopped caring. Dean frowned slightly at the sight but kept walking, approaching the small cluster of people standing before one tombstone.<p>

Mary Winchester, the fair beauty, had the wrinkles of burden on the corner of her eyes. She tugged slightly on the hem of her flower patterned skirt, keeping the forced smile on her lips. Mary never wanted to show sad face to her children or friends. But Dean could easily tell she had been crying; her eyes were still nearly burning red.

"Hey mom, how are you?" Dean said quietly, voice gentle and sweet, comforting. Mary turned to look at his oldest son, lifting her long fingered hand to stroke over Dean's arm. "I'm fine... You look good, Dean", she said softly, quietly, that faint tone of wavering in her voice. Dean leaned in and kissed his mother's cheek before moving to Bobby.

Dean's godfather greeted him with a small nod and pat on the back. Dean gave Bobby a grin before turned to look at the most important one.

Sam stood quietly on the edge of the row of people, hands tucked in pockets and eyes set down on the gravestone. Each and every time Dean saw Sam, he was honestly and utterly surprised how much the kid had grown again. Sam's weight was dragging back little, and six and a half feet tall boy was thin as a broomstick. Dean smiled little to himself before Sam suddenly turned, flashing him a look.

Dean moved to him, settling by his side. Amazed still how he had to look up at him these days. "Thanks for gathering everyone up", he whispered to his little brother. Sam just bitchfaced at him and turned to look away, nose wrinkled.

"You smell of whiskey, cigarettes and something I don't even want to name", he muttered, making Dean laugh out nearly so loud that he received a punch from Sam.

Otherwise it was dead silence by the gravestone. Mary stepped quietly forward and let her hand brush over the cold stone, her self-control being in a test again.

John Winchester stood quietly feet or two away from others, eyes set on the stone. His jaws were clenched together, muscle jumping on his cheek. His eyes seemed pretty much emotionless at the point.

As John shifted slightly closer to Dean, Dean's eyes shot on his father. He quickly observed him through, seeing small streaks of grey in his hair and beard. John didn't even look at Dean.

"You just can't come in time, can't you?" he murmured to his son. Dean bit on his lip slightly. So his father's attitude would never change.

"Had problems with car", he replied shortly. John muttered something about the piece of junk and rust before adding "Who even owns a car in New York anyways."

Dean didn't reply to that.

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><p>It was maybe twenty minutes later when the group aws sitting in the booth in the small restaurant where John had booked a table for them. Dean sat on the end of the bench, rolling the lighter on his hand, dropping it few times on the table. Sam had found a ballpoint pen hidden in his pocket and was currently sitting in slightly hunched position across from Dean, sketching on the napkin.<p>

Mary observed the menu closely, clearly trying to hide how nervous family meetings like these made her. Bobby sat by the window, trucker cap on his lap, his eyes tightly away from the window. Bobby never spoke too much when John was around. Their relation had broken many years before and now they couldn't even be concidered as nodding acquaintances.

"This... This is nice. I think it's nice that we still do this, after all the years", Mary started, trying to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen upon them. Sam immediately noticed the stretched tone in his mother's voice and a small frown was drawn on his face. He lifted his eyes from his sketch and looked at Mary, saying "mom" gently as he did.

Mary gave his son a slight smile. "I'm sorry. I just think that Michael would like that we still do this. Dean's face took a slightly more neutral look to hide all the twisting in his guts as his older brother was the subject of the conversation. Quietly he reached for his pocket and pulled out the pack of smokes, slipping one between his lips.

He barely had the time to light it up and took a one long drag before his mother snatched the smoke and snubbed it out in a wine glass, giving him this 'have some manners' like glance before she turned to look at Sam.

"Come on, Sam. Tell Dean what you told me", she said, encouraging smile spreading on her lips. Sam had gotten into drawing again and startled as his mother addressed him, looking completely bemused as he lifted his head, looking between Dean and Mary for a while.

Sam opened his mouth and drew in a breath. A small smile replaced the dazzled look. "She's very impressed about my latest work... Potrait with charcoal", he started, putting the pen down on the table as he straightened his back. His eyes visited on the stub of the cigarette on the glass before he looked at Dean. "And I have good chances for getting a scholarship for college if I keep going like this." He grinned widely, small flush of sheepishness on his cheeks and the tip of his ears that showed from under the hair.

Dean moved his leg to nudge it against Sam's under the table and he lifted his hand, giving him thumbs up. "That's my boy", he said softly, proud smile on his lips. He leaned forward slightly and leaned on his hands as waiter came to bring their brunch. Cheesecake for Bobby, small salad for Sam, mom had only tea, John went with toast and Dean decided to have nothing this time.

"Scholarship, eh?" Dean said after a short while, smile still on his lips despite the heavy atmosphere that had hung above them for hours now. Sam nodded, eating slowly his chicken salad and taking time by times sips from his water. Dean wanted to make fun of him eating his rabbit food again, but he kept his mouth shut.

"I'm thinking of going to law school after this", Sam said, surprising Dean completely. "Law school? Pretty ambitious... I count on you kid, when I fuck up then", he said and grinned, receiving deprecatory glance from his father. He just completely ignored it.

Mary cleared her throat and put down her cup of tea. One sugar and little lemon, Dean recalled.

"His teacher suggested your brother to take part of the exhibition his school organizes... And that's a huge honor. Could easily boost up his points when applying for next school." Mary smiled, clearly proud of her youngest son. Dean found himself wondering how such a good human being as Sam was the result of his good mother and evil father pairing up. He shook his head slightly to shake the thought away.

Sam looked at Dean, searching for reaction, small, still so sheepish smile on his lips. Dean said nothing but lifted his hand and grinned, highfiving Sam so hard his palm was left sore. Mary glanced at John, waiting for him to say something.

"Yeah, I'd be probably the youngest one to be ever granted with scholarship at this po-..."

"Dean, would you pass the salt?" John interrupted, flicking his hand on his son's direction, not lifting his gaze a bit. Mary frowned, the outcome of her urging his husband to speak out. "John, Sam was speaking", she said, not getting any sort of reaction out of John.

Dean straightened his back and turned to look over at his father who was sitting at the other end of the seat from him. He slammed his hand on the table. "Let him talk!" he started, staring at his father. "You can't just talk over him like that."

Mary lifted her hand and touched Sam's shoulder briefly, making younger of the brothers shake it off. He was alright. Bobby furrowed his brows, but knew Dean would be able to handle John.

"Sam is perfectly capable of speaking up if he feels like I'm talking over him. Sam, isn't that right?" he asked, man's eyes cold. God, how could someone look at his own son like that?

Dean clenched his jaws when Sam muttered that he was alright. Bullshit. John ignored Dean.

"I'm sorry, Sam", John said, sounding little forced. "For changing the subject. Please, keep going", he said, but Dean interrupted him this time. "What was the subject, _dad?" _he asked, still turned towards him.

John turned to look at him, brows arched in surprised glance. "Excuse me?" he asked. Dean shifted. John wouldn't slither out of this now.

"What was the subject we were talking about, dad? Not financials, I'm sure", Dean said back, so irritated that he sounded nearly amused. John narrowed his eyes at his son. "Now is not time to be hero with a cape, Dean", he said, voice clearly tensed. Dean just shook his head and shifted closer. "Now it's a perfect time."

John said nothing, just curled his finger under the collar of his button-up and adjusted it, eyes set away from Dean. Dean stared at him before grunted and leaned over the table to Sam's direction.

"You need a lift? I got Baby parked outside", he said quietly. Sam shook his head, eyes still down on his salad which he hadn't been touching since the argument had started. Dean sighed and got up, pecking a kiss on his little brother's head. Sam, nearly an adult already, didn't complain about the small shows of affection that Dean was giving to him.

"See you after school, then", he said and brushed his hand through Sam's thick, messy hair before heading out in the warm sunlight of the end of the Spring.


	3. Gabriel and the boy with blue eyes

Dean got out of the car as he had finally got out of the afternoon rush. Times like these he cursed that his father was right; Owning a car in New York was probably idiotic, for a poor student like him especially. But Dean loved his Baby like his best friend, like his little brother. She was his Baby, unexceptionable, one true beauty. Nothing like piece of rusty junk like his father had said. Well, John drove only with cars made after the new millennium.

Dean raked his hand through his spiky, light brown hair, glancing around him in the busy street. Laying his journal down for a while on the hood of his car he shrugged off his jacket and with quick fingers unbuttoned his dress shirt, tying them tightly around his hips. Only in his white t-shirt he headed to the cafe, having to walk for a good half a mile to get in there, his journal in a tight hold against his side.

Finally arriving to the cafe he took his familiar seat from the last booth. He glanced at the other customers briefly, flashing a smile to the business lady sitting by the counter drinking her latte, eating a bagel. Dean stuck out from the crowd, looking completely out of place amidst all the business types.

Woman just arched her thin brows at him, evaluating him shortly with her gaze. An approving smile visited her lips before she turned back to reading the newspaper she had been reading. Dean spotted the wedding ring on her left ring finger. He just grinned. He hadn't gotten rusty.

He slid sitting down on the bench he constatly sat in, putting the journal on the table. He quickly flicked through the pages, seeing old dates from years behind before he finally reached the next fresh page. He pulled the pen out which he had stuffed under the back of the book. The whole tattered old thing was being held together with a binder clips and other various objects.

The hostess of the place, Alice shuffled past him, pushing the small plate of pie in front of him. "Eat something", she said softly to him, despite how tired she looked. Just a few years back when she had been in her late fifties she had been all perky and exuberant but now... Well. Maybe years of serving and holding the small coffee shop together took its toll slowly. Dean just grinned her widely.

"Yes, ma'am", he said with a sweet tone, looking more than thankful. Alice had always been good to him and Dean tried to pay it back to her as well as he just could.

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><p>After eating too many pieces of pie and drinking too many cups of coffee he had left the small coffee. His roommate had came for him there, to bum a ride back home. The coffee shop was around halfway from their school to their flat, so Gabriel took all the possible advantages of it that he just could. And Dean didn't really mind.<p>

They walked side to side, heading towards the spot where Dean had parked the car. Dean was smoking, inhaling and slowly blowing it out. Gabriel instead rolled the lollipop around in his mouth, hard candy clattering against his teeth. A wide grin appeared on short man's lips and he glanced at Dean. All he got back was just a questioning arch of the brows.

"What?"

"I sold your boyfriend a toothbrush", Gabriel informed, sounding as proud as if he had just won the Nobel Peace Price. Dean looked just confused.

"You sold my who? What?" The smoke was hed forgotten between his index and middle finger as he looked at Gabriel, searching for answers. Gabriel huffed and rolled his eyes.

"That lean, well muscled, oblivious fucking nice piece of meat you left in your bed in the morning... Sold him a toothbrush. Got three bucks. Probably wanted the taste of your spunk out of his mouth", Gabriel said, bursting into laughter which signaled that Gabriel thought that he had cracked a good one now. All Dean could do was just to let out a breath, mumbling something about unbelievable before glancing back at the small man who had shoved the lollipop deep in his mouth again.

"Congrats, then?" Dean said, ending it in question, finishing his smoke and stubbing it under his shoe as he walked by.

"Are in order, yup", Gabriel said, grinning as he slurped loudly on his lollipop. It seemed to be cherry flavored. Man briefly brushed his long, caramel colored hair out of his face and behind his ear.

"I think I could make a business out of it", the man, slightly older than Dean, poundered out loud, as if searching for Dean's opinion in it. Dean just arched his brows again, questioning everything Gabriel said and did today. Well, it had always been like that. Since they had met in the junior high. Gabriel was that guy that Dean couldn't stand but couldn't deal without. Yeah. There was just that something about the small, fox like man that attracted him in some level.

"Yeah... The one-night-stand travel -up for women! Rubbers for guys! The toiletries, cell phone charger, cab numbers, the whole set!" Gabriel grinned widely, glancing at Dean with yellowish brown eyes which had now spread wide in zeal.

"Retail it at 19,95, nice price. We could do like million flyers and toss 'em off from the balcony.. Thingie... And hope the whole pile doesn't smash anyone's head in!" He finished his sentence by biting the lollipop in half. A terrible, loud crunching sound could be heard and Dean found himself to be wincing little at the thought of Gabriel's brochures crushing some poor old lady. Maybe he should talk his roomie out of it.

"Aaaaand... You think anyone would buy this?" he started, bumping against Gabriel's side, his hands tucked in the deep pockets of his trousers. "Like with actual money?"

Gabriel huffed, puffing out his chest, tugging on the lapels of his green plaid shirt which was hanging open over the rusty red t-shirt. "Hey... One night stands happen! It's part of life. Like stubbing your toe, twisting it until it cracks..."

He grinned again widely. "Sometimes..." he continued, lifting his arm to try and reach to hook it around Dean's shoulders, only managing to put himself in an awkward angle. "Sometimes you misjudge a corner and CRACK, bend your pinky toe, other times you wake up in a freshman dorm... Wearing a field hockey tee... And wondering why your balls smell like cottoncandy." His grin turned nearly into devilish and his gaze looked absent for a moment as if he was thinking back at something that Dean had no desires to know about.

"Yeah. Of course. Sure", he just said as if to have a closure to the damned subject. Gabriel shrugged, letting his hand drop from Dean's shoulder as he chewed the lollipop parts into smaller pieces with the stick still hanging between his lips.

"What ya say You down?" Gabriel said, continuing with the topic no matter how Dean tried to avoid it. Dean glanced at him, giving him a small, playful shove on his side. "I think I'm down with getting you on some sort of medication... Which doesn't include any sugar."

Gabriel rolled his shoulders, offended. He still thought his idea was nothing more than simply brilliant. "Alright, Dean-o. Be cynical like you always are... Just remember, my man, at some point of the history two people discussed about light bulb the same way we're talking about the survival kit here, and know this... Other one went on to fame and fortune while other one went to work at the Burger King or something."

* * *

><p>Next morning in the 'better neighborhoods' of New York City an expensive car stopped in front of a small row house. Sam waited on the narrow, stony stairs patiently, arms rested on his bony knees, in his blue and red colored school uniform. Seeing the car he tilted his head up and shifted the bag better on his shoulder before pouncing up.<p>

In few, long great leaps forward he reached the car. The driver had got out and opened the back door of the large car. Sam mutered that he could have done it himself, but old driver was stuck in his old habits and Sam had no say in it. He just thanked the old man, giving him a greeting smile before slid sitting in the backseat.

After a ten, fifteen minutes drive the public highschool came finally to the view. Sam pressed unconsciously more tight against the leather upholstery, his thin fingers curling tigher around the sling of his back. He saw the cluster of kids his age and few years older in blue and red uniforms packed in front of the front door.

Sam was glad the car had tinted windows. He took a moment of peace for himself, and the driver, Eddie offered it to him. He knew the school wasn't easiest thing to go through... Especially if you were more or less better than others.

* * *

><p>In afternoon Dean sat in the lecture hall, in the back of the room. He strecthed himself slightly, a quiet yawn being drawn from him. He settled back on his seat, pen tapping restlessly on his journal again. He had piles of books open in front of himself and he studied them lazily, listening to old professor's maniac, low voice which drilled right into his brain.<p>

Time by times the professor addresses the few students paying attention. Dean wasn't one of them. Old man was talking about Greek literature. Usually Dean was interested, but today something was different. He just couldn't give rat's ass about it.

" ... has changed over time to accommodate the evolution of their culture, of which mythology, both overtly and in its unspoken assumptions, is an index of the changes. In Greek mythology's surviving literary forms, as found mostly at the end of the progressive changes..."

Dean yawned again, just in time to see one hand rising. Slender wrist and long fingers. Dean followed the arm down to the body. The boy sat close by to him and Dean could see his figure.

He looked like he had been focusing in the class the whole time. Boy's dark, nearly black hair was sinfully messy, looking like he had just gotten laid. Dean bit on his lip, eyes travelling to boy's eyes. They looked much fainter blue than what they looked like when boy's eyes flicked to other direction. Deep, deep blue big deer eyes. Dean cocked his head to the side.

A question that the boy asked from the professor made no sense whatsoever to him and Dean just shrugged it off. Boy bend over back to do his notes relentlessly, leaning his cheek on his left hand. He blinked very rarely, and in Dean's mind he looked nearly like a robot trying to burn the whole in the paper with his laser beam eyes. Nothing happened.

Dean took in his face, his plain clothes - simple white t-shirt, blue jeans, red sneakers - and the silver cross hanging around his neck. Dean arched his brow, finding himself wondering if the boy was religious... And in what amount.

Then he just grimaced at boy's question, and noticed that no matter how much he had been studying or would be in the future, he'd never reach to that level.


End file.
